


Little Secrets

by Polly_Lynn



Category: Castle
Genre: Community: kink of the castle, F/M, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, Kink Meme, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 03:35:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4124215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polly_Lynn/pseuds/Polly_Lynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts as a game. A moment that turns in the middle of the night-time pas de deux in the bathroom that's quickly become routine."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> Set not long after Always (4 x 23). Response to an anonymous prompter on tumblr who sent me this from the 2015 summer hiatus kink meme.

It starts as a game. A moment that turns in the middle of the night-time pas de deux in the bathroom that's so soon become routine.

He finishes more quickly. Less to do, but he lingers to watch. To be in the way and get on her nerves a little, because—no surprise—that really works for the two of them.

She's pulling her hair up, one-handed. Groping on the counter for the tie that's there somewhere among the scatter of things. He reaches for it. A whim, really. He knocks her wrist away and circles his own, the long tail just wrapping twice around his palm.

"Castle, _stop._ "

He's about to. It's sharp enough that the instinct is immediate, but he catches a glimpse of her in the mirror and she's staring with wide eyes, flashing dark. He takes a step into her body, flush against her from behind. The length of hair from her scalp to his fist goes slack, but he keeps hold.

"No." He can't quite believe it's his voice. His word. He can't believe it's his free arm banding around her waist, tugging her body even closer. Fixing her in place "No, Beckett. I don't think I will stop."

She swallows hard, the rise and fall of her chest irregular, but she's gearing up. Resistance, but he heads her off. The hand at her hip comes up swiftly, jerking the silk of her robe aside, baring her breast. He covers it roughly with his palm, the nipple rising under his touch. He spreads his fingers to let it peek through, flushed dark and harder every second. He brings the sides of his fingers together around it, pinching until her lips part and out falls that dirty little noise he's already in love with.

"I don't think you want me to stop."

He does stop, though. His hand falls from her breast. He unwinds his palm from her hair, and her lids go from half mast to wide and indignant in a flash. He yanks the tie of her short robe with one hand and whisks it down both arms at once with the other. He gathers it at the small of her back, half pinning her arms to her sides as the fabric snags at her elbows. It arches her forward, breasts thrust even closer to the mirror. It bares the scar entirely, and she tries to flinch away.

"Does it hurt?" He keeps her still, his hand splayed so wide and low over her ribs that his fingertips just touch the puckered edge. He works his way higher, carelessly sweeping nails and rough fingertips over her nipples and the inside swell of her breasts, circling the marred skin and moving on. "Does it still hurt?" She shakes her head no, eyes locked with his in the mirror. He pinches one nipple, then the other, fast. Hard. "Does that hurt?"

She nods, wide-eyed. He attacks again. Harder still, adding a twist this time.

"Y-ye-yes," she stutters, knowing it for the correction it is. "Hu-hurts."

"Do you like it?"

Pinch and release. Twist. One, then the other, harder and harder until she hisses something like a yes. _Yes._

"That's good, Kate." He gives her a dark-eyed smile. Closes his teeth at the base of her neck where taut muscle flares out to her shoulder. "It's good when you tell me things."

He loosens his fist from the bunch of silk at the small of her back. She inhales sharply, her hands in sudden motion as they fall free, but he'll have none of that. He circles each wrist with cruel fingers and tugs her arms straight to her sides.

"I can tie them." He flicks his eyes to the wide silk sash dangling over the edge of the counter from the loops of her robe. Her body goes stiff, tall and arched against him. "Do you want that?" he asks. Swiftly. Before she can catch herself. Before it occurs to her to deny it. Deny this.

"No." It's barely a whisper. More a parting of lips and another wide-eyed shake of the head. "Not . . . not now." Her eyes go wider still. She sags against him.

"Not now." He lets his hold on her wrists slacken. "Later, maybe." He pushes the robe to the floor, the tie out of sight. "I think you'd like that, too. Later. But now you'll be still for me, won't you?" He drags his hands from fingertip to shoulder and out over her breasts again. "Now you'll be good."

"Yes." Her head drops back against his shoulder and the word is a long time coming up and out of her throat. "Good."

"Good," he murmurs back, working at her breasts. Short, sharp tugs at long intervals at first, but more demanding as her breath comes faster. Harder each time until her hips are moving. An unbidden, dirty little circle against his while her fists open and close at her sides. "Is this too much?" He pinches hard. Both hands at once. He holds her there, watching her watch in fascination as the flesh goes dark, darker. She's silent. Unmoving. "Do you want more?"

"I don't . . ." She gasps as he releases both and the blood rushes back in. He drags the backs of his nails around and around in widening circles, and whatever she can't quite get out is definitely not a no. "I don't . . ."

"Do you want me to decide?" Her chest heaves at the low words scraping over her ear. Her eyes are hazy. Unfocused. It drives him crazy. Drives him on until his hands and lips and teeth are frantic on her body. Dragging and pinching and digging in. Marking. "Is that your dirty little secret, Kate? You like it when I decide?"

"No," she moans, but every single other thing about her is at odds with the drawn-out syllable. The way she gasps and presses closer to his hands. The way her mouth falls open in a wordless plea for more when he grinds into her. The way she's fascinated by the sight of him—tall and broad and looming behind her. The sight of her own body, so uncharacteristically passive. Doll-like and entirely beautiful.

"That's a lie, Beckett." He kicks at one heel, forcing her legs wider as his hand snakes between them from the front. He takes a single, hard swipe at her clit and moves beyond it, diving in to coat two fingers. He drags them up her stomach and over her ribs. Between her breasts, leaving a slick trail on her skin before he presses them to her lips. "Your body doesn't lie."

Her tongue darts out, unhesitating. Eager. She sucks hard, greedy for the taste of herself, and there's absolutely no art to it. Raw desire that'll be his undoing if he lets it go on. He pulls his fingers free with a pop. She jerks forward, her protest dying on her lips as his hand dives between her legs again.

"Not lying." She's angry now. Frustrated.

Her palms slam flat on the counter. She looks up, alarmed, but he holds them down, one hand spread wide to span the two of hers together, thrusting with the other as he murmurs against her neck, "Good. Just like that. Good, Kate."

"Not before." She groans as his fingers pump in and out. Deep, then shallow. Teasing. She pushes back. He pulls his fingers from her immediately. His hand slams into her ass with a sharp crack. She cries out, coming, hard and sudden. He's not even touching her.  "Never wanted it . . . this . . . before."

"Before what?" He plants one hand on the small of her back. He fumbles with the drawstring of his pants, pushing them just low enough to free his cock. "Before what, Kate?"

He pushes in. Just the head. Hardly anything. He feels her legs shaking. She's panting, trying to stay still. Pleading with him in the mirror. Trying to be good, though the orgasm has done nothing at all to take the edge off.

"Before you." She cries out again as he thrusts hard, another inch disappearing tight inside her. A reward. "First night." She gasps when he pushes deeper still, forcing her feet wider. "The kitchen."

He slams fully against her at that. Fully into her, driven by the memory of her white knuckles reaching for the far side of the counter. A brutal, almost wordless fuck when he'd woken, panicked and furious, to an empty bed. Thinking she'd gone entirely.

There's white behind his eyes at the memory. Knowing it must hurt with her all-over bruises and both of them raw from a couple rounds already. Knowing he should stop. Slow at least, and then her voice, low and dark.

_More. Hard. Please. God, Castle. More._

He pulls out, suddenly. Entirely. Too soon. He can't. Too soon. She's sobbing. Frustration. Loss. His name and a curse that has him sinking one finger, then two inside her, his thumb swinging up to circle her clit.

"Come," he rasps in her ear. "Come right now."

He stills his hand, cupping her hard and letting her ride it. Holding her there when the aftershocks are dying away and she tries to wriggle free. When she struggles hard enough to pull his soaking hand halfway to her mouth.

"No," he says sharply. He flicks his wrist, reversing the hold. She goes limp. Contrite and suddenly obedient again. She's going to kill him, sooner rather than later, and it's such a shame, because he could play with her forever. Together, they ease her to her knees, the soft cotton mat a welcome cushion from the cold, hard tile. "You like how you taste."

He nudges her lips with the head of his cock. She opens, slow and seductive. Nodding agreement. She's performing now, and he lets her get away with it. He lets her plant her hands on his thighs and set her own pace.

"I like how you taste." Her eyes flicker upward to watch as he licks his fingertips. A brief in and out that has her sucking, strong and greedy, taking him deep. "How you tasted that first night." He lets his hips drift forward, a counterpoint to her motion as his fingers slip into her hair. "In the kitchen."

He cups the back of her neck hard. He stills his hips, but it's fair warning, and she knows it. She knows and there's a brief moment of fear. Of panic, but her fingers curl around the backs of this thighs just as he's pulling away, ending it. She gives the slightest nod, a moan vibrating all down the length of him as he takes over.

"I loved the way you tasted," he thrusts harder, testing her limits, but her fingers trail dreamily down to his calves, her body rocking back and forth, her hips rising and falling, eager for attention again already. "Right after I'd just fucked you." He grips her hair harder, the sharp intake of her breath raising the hair on his legs as he plunges in and out, hard and deep, then shallow. Her tongue drags along the underside of his cock. "I want to taste you like that again."

He drives hard one last time and it's almost too much. The swallow of her throat around him almost does him in, but he hauls her up on the counter. She falls back hard on the flat of her hands, her legs spread, wide and obscene. He buries himself in one thrust, kissing her hard. Drinking down nonsense cries.

_More. Hurts. God. Castle. Please. Hurts. More._

He explodes inside her, hardly able to pull back at all as she clamps down tight around him. He stumbles to the bed with her, legs still wound around his waist. He lays her back on tower of pillows and pushes her thighs wide. A bruising grip on her wrists as he brings his mouth to her clit. To her sopping hole and slick, swollen lips.

"Too much," she moans, thrashing, but he sucks hard, one last time. He sweeps his tongue over her and sinks his teeth into the soft skin of her inner thigh.

"One more," he murmurs, lapping gently. "One more for me." Alternating with kisses at the crease of her hip, his hands wandering to rough over the breasts that arch off the bed, straining toward him. "That's good, Kate. Good."

She pulls him up toward her. Whimpering. Shaking. He rolls himself half beneath her dragging her weight onto him. Folding himself around her.

She turns her lips up to kiss him, one last moan dragging out of her body as she tastes his skin. Tastes herself. Tastes him on his own lips.

"Good," she echoes. "So good."

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: To my surprise, someone on tumblr (which, incidentally, I only check about once every 6 weeks to clear out the anon hate) sent me an anonymous prompt from the kink meme—Castle/Beckett, early in the relationship, Beckett admits she likes to be submissive. This is pretty wide of that mark, but I wrote it,and I guess I'm feeling ornery.


End file.
